


Noise Pollution

by TheNotSoTalentedPoet



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: (technically) - Freeform, (very little of it is high school-based), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Comedy, Drama, Dramedy, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Family Drama, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Occasional angst, Teenage Drama, Teenage Rebellion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-04-04 22:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14030007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNotSoTalentedPoet/pseuds/TheNotSoTalentedPoet
Summary: Roxas, a troubled but gifted young musician meets and befriends a group of fellow rejects. The fiery and unpredictable Axel, the shy and repressed Xion, and the kindhearted but broken Aqua. Coming from different backgrounds in many senses, these four strive to become known among us all. Their music will take the world by storm. They are Noise Pollution.





	1. Roxas

**Author's Note:**

> I won't have notes in both places in any other chapter, but I feel it best to contextualize this. In short, this is a repost of the oldest work I have, as well as my first attempt at writing a fanfic. For the sake of it being a time capsule, essentially, I've only corrected typos and the odd misspelled word, leaving the letter of the text unchanged. As such, it really isn't that good for the first few chapters. I understand if this dissuades you, the reader, but if you see a spark of potential here, it does improve after a bit. Just be forewarned that this first chapter is a bit of a doozy, and I hope you are not offended. Or, hell, maybe there will be some enjoyment, ironic or otherwise.

 There were a lot of things that could be said about Roxas. Disaffected, solemn, angsty, and a plethora of others used to describe a typical teenager. However, the most commonly agreed upon description was closed-off. No one had ever really managed to reach him, giving him a rather frigid aura. This helped to dissuade the vast majority of people from reaching out to him, thus completing the vicious cycle.

 

This unflappable persona that was shrouded in an icy enigma would be hard to associate with the boy lounging about in his room, headphones on, feeling the rhythm in utter silence. Tapping his fingers in a laughably bad imitation of the polyrhythm blaring in his ears, he broke out into a pensive, yet content smile. The drab, under-decorated room, consisting of a bed with a plain comforter, a practically barren desk, a couple of sparsely filled shelves, save for a nearly full shelf of CD's, a basic but worn- in stereo, an electric guitar and amplifier, and a high-backed wooden chair, radiated an aura of simplicity. Breaking his silence to emphatically scream the final line of, "I know the pieces fit!" the pale, blue-eyed blond took a sip of the water directly adjacent to him, musing over the myriad of things that the song described in his interpretation.

 

' _Everybody…. Just everybody. We always seem to fall apart, breaking the puzzle. It's no one's fault, at least in hindsight. But, there's almost never a way back, since the strife leads to something of substance if you let it. It's a slippery slope, and silence can ensure a fatal slip, making us lose our sense of compassion.'_ He thought.

 

Ending the contemplation right there, Roxas let his posture become even worse with a slump. Resting his socked feet on the desk, he twiddled his thumbs in anticipation for the next track, seeing how it was another emotional roller coaster. Halfway through the song, he noticed that a thunderstorm had started some time ago, with the flashes of lightning giving the space he occupied a refreshing sense of ambiance. No doubt influenced by the scenario at hand, Roxas proceeded to pick up his guitar and began to strum some chords, basically just playing what felt right, ignoring the rigid and fixed concepts of scales and structure in order to play from the heart. With his long, slender fingers delicately dancing across the strings, he stumbled upon a riff that he had been hearing in his head for the longest time. After a bit of tweaking and a couple of sour notes, Roxas had come upon yet another part of some yet unfinished song. This was a rather common occurrence, as in the two-and-a-half years he had been fiddling about with the delicate instrument, he had composed dozens of riffs that left sitting with no part to combine them with. Lately though, he had been coming up with more structured and extensive pieces, and this latest one was clearly his best yet.

 

After working out the kinks, Roxas pondered over the emotion that the music invoked in him, eventually settling on a sense of wistfulness, leading into a bitter rage once it crescendoed. Repeating the riff in an attempt to find a vocal melody, he discovered that one came to him extremely easily. Afterward, he picked up his journal from the floor to write the melody out, seeing how he had a verse and chorus readymade. Marking down the syllables in scat singing terms, he mused over a couple of lines of his oh-so wonderful prose, with such highlights as, "Trapped inside… What seems to be… A windowless room… No light, no sound… Accepting what's given to me." Bemoaning the fact that they seemed rather pedestrian, he admittedly saw potential in them. ' _If only they sounded less stereotypically angst riddled, though they're not awful. They just look like a teenager wrote them. I may be one, but the connotation invoked is just skin-crawling_.'

 

Stripping off his clothes in the wake of an ever impending slumber, Roxas reflected on an event that had occurred the previous day. Said event had resonated with him, despite occurrences like this being fairly common. Maybe all the similar events had piled up and this one was the proverbial straw in the scenario where the camel's back was broken. Either way, the recollection was very vivid.

* * *

* **The Previous Day***

* * *

****Roxas, having made his recurring decision to skip lunch, was passing the lunch hour by lounging in the library. He was sitting cross-legged on the second floor, obscured from view by three conveniently placed bookshelves, when a gaggle of students came wandering in. He briefly thought of their names, quickly discerning their identities as that of Hayner, Pence, and Olette. Not noticing the solitary blond, they proceeded to initiate a conversation between the three of them.

 

"Man, fucking Miss Gainsborough!" Hayner said.

 

"Dude, keep your voice down," Olette said. "I'm not getting in trouble just because you got screwed when it comes to who you hafta work with on a group project. "

 

"Sorry, but you know I got completely fucked, right?" Hayner replied in a more even tone. "I mean, of all the people I had to get stuck with, it just HAD to be him. No one else, even Seifer, God forbid, was left alone. So, of course I get stuck with the wallflower who never fucking speaks."

 

"How is that a problem?" Pence queried.

 

"It's a problem cuz the prick wouldn't fucking talk to me," Hayner responded. "The little bitch just sat there and read the book we were assigned," he started gesticulating as he spoke more emphatically. "Our report isn't due for a month, and he's fucking readin' the book immediately. He wouldn't chill out and talk casually, and I tried, man, I really tried to give him a chance, but he walled me off. "

 

Roxas, having overheard this exchange, scoffed. _'Yeah, sure. You just talked at me nonstop about stupid shit, like girls, Call of Duty, Tyga, and other nonsensical things, so even if I did wanna talk, I wouldn't have been able to get a word in edgewise. And yes, reading is SOOOO scandalous. Why, it makes you more intelligent. Oh, the horror!'_

 

"Well," Olette said, "Look on the bright side. He'll probably do all the work for you, leaving you to retain your unchanged routine of just screwing around. That, plus the fact that Whatshisname is constantly outscoring everybody on exams, and you really need an A, seems to make this a great situation."

 

"But everybody likes me!" Hayner replied, seemingly missing the vast majority of Olette's statement. "Not counting Seifer and his gang, no one at this school is that cold to me. I'm not friends with everybody, but I can chat with anybody. It's just not something that happens, and he was being a total asshole."

 

"You sure you weren't just talking with your mouth on autopilot, as opposed to, say, asking him a simple question?" Pence asked.

 

"Positive." Hayner responded, "He just sat there with his nose in the book, being all silent and moody and stuff. It was weird, cuz I've never seen anybody who could ignore me like that."

'It was indeed a challenge, fuckhead,' Roxas thought.

"Then you should just leave the little oddball all by his lonesome," Olette said, "That way he does all the work, leaving you to just camp out on your lazy ass and coast through the next month with no hassle."

 

"Good idea!" Hayner replied, now actually hearing what Olette said, "Now I'll finally get an A in English, and I won't have to lift a solitary finger to do it. Fuckin' A! … Literally!"

 

"Well," Pence said, "let's am-scray before we get bitched out for being too loud in the library all because someone's on his pissy little man period."

 

"Fuck you, man, but, yeah, let's leave. This place is a haunting ground for losers, freaks, and other undesirables. Don't wanna ruin our reputation now, do we?

 

 _'I guess you don't,'_ thought Roxas as they turned around to leave. _'After all, who wants to be seen with me, Undesirable Number 1?'_

* * *

   ***End Flashback***

* * *

****Pushing aside his irritation at having to do the work by himself, not that that was in any way unorthodox, Roxas had already finished the book, and was going to start writing the analysis that was due in two weeks' time. The work was not exceptionally difficult, as the book was neither completely black-and white, nor was it endless shades of grey, but a rather happy medium that was simple and easy to grasp, but could still invoke a lot of thought regarding both alternate and deeper meanings.

 

The frustration was borne from the fact that, like always, the partner he had been assigned had thrown the entire workload off on him. The most infuriating part was that the ever so lovable Hayner would take credit, when in actuality he would just sit and watch as the little kicked puppy known as Roxas did all of everything required.

 

 _'It's not like I'm desperate for his help due to his keen intellect,'_ Roxas mused while in the midst of brushing his teeth, _'Rather, I'm pissed that this fucker is doing the same thing as everyone else, just leaving it all up to me. I'd probably do most of the work myself regardless, but it would be nice to have someone offer a hand, maybe leading to a discussion that leads to a deeper understanding of the material in question, just something. Something that shows them to not be another popularity-obsessed, vacuous, simpering little fool. Something that showcases a sense of decency and compassion, which most of my peers seem to be sorely lacking. It's not impossible, but I see no evidence among those whose presence I am continually in. If punishment comes to those who dare to cross the line, then why not for these jerk-offs? It's just another boundless maybe regarding the actual reason, but it's far from an uplifting sentiment.'_

 

After clearing his oral cavity of the many invaders that had previously plagued it, Roxas proceeded to climb into bed, awaiting the sweet release of slumber. Having recently broken his chronic cycle of insomnia, he was quite worn out, but, as is typical, matters of emotional distress kept him far from the realm of dreams. He lay awake in a half-conscious daze, tossing and turning, all the while never slipping into a sorely needed sleep.

 

It was there that the dam broke. Despite the aura of calm, cool headedness that he projected, Roxas did in fact feel emotions. He was adept at hiding them, but even the most frigid of people let their emotions get the best of them. Proving himself to be susceptible to this notion, Roxas finally let it out and cried. His shoulders shook with the force of his desperate sobs, his chest heaved with the strain of taking in air. His head was buried in his pillow in an effort to muffle the noise he was making with his wet, loud, and tortured cries. Mucous was dripping from his nose and combining with the rivulets of tears streaming down his face, forming a very unpleasant tasting cocktail that was created from bitter misery. For how long he cried, he had no clue; it could have been anywhere from five minutes to five hours.

After an extended period of bawling his eyes out, Roxas finally came to. Shaking his head and drying his by now quite moist facial area, he began to voice coherent thoughts again.

 

_'That was the first time I've cried since… Since….'_

 

He couldn't find the strength to finish that thought, as the wound was still gaping and wide, despite being far from recent. If there was one thing that gnawed at him every day since it had happened, it was this. No amount of time or therapy had done anything to dissuade the emotional cataclysm that had ensued in the wake of it. Everything that was perfect was gone, leaving behind a broken and bitter shell of a life. It had up and left, leaving him with the dead and hopeless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hopefully that wasn't too painful. I'll be posting the following chapters in short order, so, if you feel like going on, do check in again, 
> 
> Read, review, and I'll see ya next time.
> 
> -TheNotSoTalentedPoet


	2. Xion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roxas, a troubled but gifted young musician meets and befriends a group of fellow rejects. The fiery and unpredictable Axel, the shy and repressed Xion, and the kindhearted but broken Aqua. Coming from different backgrounds in many senses, these four strive to become known among us all. Their music will take the world by storm. They are Noise Pollution.

The next morning, at around five, Roxas slowly woke, rubbing his crusted over, red, puffy eyes. The previous night, despite re-opening a not-quite healed wound, had been just the liberating experience that he had needed. This had granted him his first truly peaceful sleep in months.

After sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Roxas swung his legs over the side of the bed and proceeded to stand in a very lethargic manner. Brushing his lip length bangs out of his eyes, he proceeded to make his way to the bathroom to prepare for the ever impending day. While in the middle of a very invigorating hot shower, Roxas suddenly recalled that he had an errand to run after school let out, meaning that his routine of coming straight home and staying there would have to be broken. Bemoaning this fact, Roxas let a groan of anguish escape him and slumped against the tiled wall.

 _'Great,'_  Roxas sarcastically mused _, 'I may have nothing urgent to do to use as an excuse to shirk this responsibility, but gimme a break. I have to go clear across the city to see another useless counselor that won't even listen if I bother to say what's gnawing at me. A day spent with lotion and a Playboy would be more constructive than any number of visits to any number of these charlatans!'_

Stepping out of the shower, he gave himself a once-over and deemed himself fit for "decent society", only taking roughly thirty seconds to run a comb through his eternally unruly dirty blonde locks. Following that, he outfitted himself in his standard attire of beat-up black Converse, and worn, loose-fitting jeans. He selected a black shirt emblazoned with the seal of The Ramones, and finally donned his practically trademark thin, drab army jacket.

Entering the kitchen at 6 on the dot, Roxas started grabbing and arranging the materials -flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, milk, an egg, and some sugar- needed to prepare himself a tall stack of warm, fluffy pancakes. Whilst mixing the batter, Roxas debated making extra for the sole other occupant of the house. Since he never knew when the man in question would choose to wake up, preparing food for him could result in the meal still sitting where he placed it, cold and unappetizing at that point, upon his return from school.

Deciding to throw the dog a bone, regardless of how ungrateful the little bastard was, Roxas started to mix the batter for the other set while his cooked on the stove. After flipping his, and upon seeing the surface turn to a warm golden brown, he placed them upon a plate, stacked nice and high, then proceeded to smother the towering arrangement with enough syrup to give a diabetic a panic attack, tucking in and scarfing them down in a short span of time. Savoring the taste, he rose from his seat, bringing his now soiled plate and fork along with him, and walked over to the sink to rinse off his used cutlery. While he was doing this, Roxas glanced at the clock on the wall, reading the time as five past seven. He set the dishes in the adjacent drying rack, and then dragged his feet back to his room to brush his teeth and grab his backpack.

Letting the sticky white paste cling to the bristles of the brush, Roxas got to work, scrubbing every last nanometer of his teeth that he could possibly reach for a good four minutes. Flashing himself an open-lipped grin in the mirror, Roxas was greeted by a dazzling set of pearly whites, showing how effective meticulous oral hygiene could truly be. The only downside was how rarely it graced the world. Despite a hefty amount of effort on his part, he could not bring himself to smile for no reason, which deprived him of a tool that he could use to woo all the pretty girls he came in contact with. Not that he never smiled;he just rarely found a reason to when in the midst of the unholiest abomination to ever plague the Earth: teenagers.

Shaking the mild bout of self-deprecation off, Roxas slung his backpack over his shoulders and sauntered over to the door, ready to begin his trek to school. Grabbing his house key and stowing it in his pocket, he marched to the door, but suddenly stopped in the entryway, seemingly lost in thought. Shaking his head, which seemed to be a recurring action on his part, he shut and locked the door, and then set out on his melancholy way.

* * *

Finally arriving at the entrance of the embodiment of oppression that he so hated, Roxas walked down the hallways with his usual standoffish aura seeping out into the ether around him. His ultimate destination was his favorite haunt: the library. He spent roughly every second that he wasn't in a class in that hallowed sanctuary dedicated to silence and literature. It was set up in a way that would set any claustrophobic person's hair on end, with its narrow corridors and the close proximity between each shelf. This layout made it very easy for one to conceal themselves; something Roxas took full advantage of during those times when cutting class was just the thing to do in his mind.

Upon arriving at his special little haunting ground, Roxas immediately took up residence in one of his many cubby holes that he had established throughout the cavernous room. Though they were mostly established so he had multiple hiding places in case someone came looking for him, some of them were kept solely for their location, and he would select a location based on his mood. Today, he chose one that had a rather contented aura. It was situated about twenty feet from a window, leading it to have some level of illumination, though it was far from the brightest area he could have chosen.

Settling himself into a contented slump, Roxas pulled out his phone and, seeing as he had a half-hour to kill before the first bell rang, selected Alice In Chains' 'Jar of Flies' EP to listen to, quickly losing himself in the dark and twisted, yet strangely mellow sounds that the music brought forth. Though it was nigh impossible to come out of the EP with a happy feeling in tow, he still found it strangely relaxing in a morbid way. Something about the haunted and isolated sounds of the songs, particularly 'Nutshell' and 'Rotten Apple', invoked an eerie sense of calm and clarity.

 _'Even though I'm far from immune from unhappy, even self-mutilating thoughts,'_  Roxas thought,  _'It still serves as some form of empathetic release to know that others have felt this way, and far more severely. I suppose finding solace in music that could be represented visually by a large, gaping and bleeding wound is a healthier outlet than a lot of other shit I could be doing.'_

After listening to this beloved collection of songs, Roxas put his phone back in his right front pocket and sat stilly and silently, twiddling his thumbs in an attempt to calm the apprehension that had bubbled up inside of him. He sat like this, head directly facing the carpeted floor, until the high pitched dinging of the school bell vibrated his eardrums. Upon recognizing the sound, he drew himself up, letting out a discontented groan in the process, and set off for his first class.

* * *

After two supremely dull classes had ended, the ever exasperated Roxas trudged along to third period. Upon entering the room, early as always, he was greeted with a bright and chipper voice addressing him.

"Good morning, Roxas," Aerith said, a bright smile on her face, "How's your day been?"

"Good morning to you, too, and far from stimulating," Roxas replied.

"Awww, how come?"

"It's just been a very slow, dull day," Roxas replied while taking his seat at the end of the left-most row, away from the window,  _'Great…. Just great. Now she's not gonna take the hint and stop talking to me.'_

"Why?

"I've learned nothing new today. Instead, I've been reviewing material I already grasp."

"Do you ever try to make yourself have an interest in the material?"

"If my interest isn't piqued organically, then I can't be interested, period." Roxas said, while running his palm down his face in a rather exasperated manner," I can't force myself to be intrigued by something. All I can do is get it done in spite of how bored it makes me."

The conversation ended there, as more students had begun to clamor around the far too small doorway. This drew Aerith's attention, seeing as she had to greet everyone, at least in her mind. Roxas responded by taking the assigned reading out of his backpack, and opening it while staying silent and blending into the background. This tactic generally kept others from engaging in conversation, but like the day before, the esteemed Hayner decided to rain on Roxas's silent, gloomy parade.

"So," Hayner said in a sotto voice while taking his seat, "Get any of it done?"

Though he had, Roxas opted not to respond, hoping beyond hope that the idiot he'd been saddled with would bugger off. This, sadly, was not to be.

"I'll bet you have," Hayner voiced from what had become a very lackadaisical posture, "Since you're such a goddamn genius, right? Nobody knows more than you, even though you never say anything unless a teacher asks you, which must mean you're better than us, huh?"

 _'No, I just have no desire to talk to any of you pre-judgmental douche canoes. I'm neither superior, nor inferior to anyone in here. I, quite simply, don't like you people.'_ This thought came to Roxas in the middle of Hayner's enlightening dialogue, making him miss some of it.

"… So, why don't you do this work yourself if you're so fuckin' perfect, you elitist asswipe? Cuz I refuse to contribute a word to this report. If you're smart, you'll do it and slap my name on it as well." Hayner then relaxed, thinking that he had emerged victorious from this little scrap.

Roxas, however, decided to give this infuriatingly cocky braggart what-for. "Or I could just inform Miss Gainsborough that you're refusing to work with me, and let her fail you."

Hayner, surprised by this occurrence, gaped for a second due to seeing the infamous mute speak. Overcoming his momentary stunned silence, Hayner puffed up his chest and did his best to look intimidating, "Right, like you have the balls to do that."

"It doesn't take much courage to sell you down the river." Roxas replied, his posture and tone radiating with amusement. "It's pretty funny that you think I'm gonna be scared into submission by that rooster impression you're doing there, though."

"Do it then," Hayner spat back in much louder tone than before, showing genuine rage in body language and by the volume of his voice, "We'll see if it's still so funny after I thrash your sorry ass."

"The funny part is that I would have cut you a break had you left me alone, but since you're acting like a complete dick, I'm not feeling very generous. So, I'm gonna tell the teacher that you're being horrifically incorrigible, and that'll be the end of it."

Hayner then surprised Roxas by actually taking a swing at him. This proved ineffectual, seeing as Roxas ducked the blow, then rose from his seat and backpedaled in an effort to establish some distance. This caught the attention of the rest of the class, along with Aerith. The class sat and watched as Hayner kept swinging and missing, and Roxas just kept dodging and backpedaling. During this, Aerith had run out of the room in a mad dash for the Principal's office.

Roxas, in the midst of all his dodging, was formulating some sort of plan to prevent him from receiving a violent blow _. 'Well, someone seems pissy. Great, now I have to avoid either receiving or delivering a blow. Please keep missing.'_

Continuing to dodge the torrent of blows being rained upon him, Roxas accidentally kicked someone's backpack in front of him. Hayner, not noticing this, tripped over said backpack while attempting to deliver a haymaker. This, along with Roxas avoiding the punch, caused him to faceplant into a nearby student's desk, bloodying his nose and knocking him out in the process. Of course, Aerith and Principal Strife didn't enter until after Hayner had slumped onto the floor. They took one look at the scenario: one boy lying unconscious, showing off a clearly broken nose, and another, completely unblemished boy standing above him. They reacted as most adults would, ushering Hayner to the Nurse's office, and forcefully escorting Roxas to the Principal's office.

* * *

After being interrogated and thoroughly punished, Roxas stepped out of the office with a rather pissed-off expression plastered on to his face.

' _Fan-fucking-tastic…. Two weeks of after-school detention, starting tomorrow. All for skillfully avoiding some slack-jawed idiot's attempt to pulverize my face. You'd think the justice system in a high school would be much more exemplary.'_

Grumbling all the while, Roxas made his way back to English, though he'd only be there for roughly ten minutes. Knocking on the door, he braced himself for the inevitable staring and whispering that his presence would be a catalyst for. After Aerith had answered the door, throwing a very disappointed look his way, he made his way to his seat, ignoring the musings of his ever so predictable classmates. Upon sitting down, and adopting his usual thousand yard stare at his desk, he heard Aerith delivering some last minute news.

"… So that's what you have to look forward to tomorrow, class. On a final note, Roxas, since you and Hayner obviously don't get along, you two will be switching partners. Seeing as Hayner is currently detained, I'll just inform you. You'll be partnered with Xion, and I really hope you won't end up knocking HER out."

Hearing that his partner had been exchanged for another, Roxas let a glimmer of relief wash over his face for a few seconds. This rare display of emotion was doubled when confusion swiftly replaced it.

 _'Xion…? That name doesn't ring any bells, and that's odd. …Oh!'_ Roxas's face lit up with all the evidence needed to show that he just had a 'Eureka!' moment. _'She must be that new transfer student that was supposed to arrive today… Well, great. Now she's definitely going to think I'm some kind of lunkhead douche who punches people willy-nilly. At least she's not Hayner, I guess._

He began to survey the room for the lone unfamiliar face of his new partner. Within a few seconds, he zeroed in on an unfamiliar face that was two rows over, and a few seats up. As a result of her placement, Roxas could only make out the corner of her face. Other than noting her mid-neck length black hair and pale skin, the angle she was at was too disadvantageous for him to glean any more details.

The bell soon rang, and the classroom became a madhouse as a result of overzealous students clamoring to be the first one out of the door. Roxas, thinking such enthusiasm was wasted on such a simple task, approached the door at a much slower pace. Somewhere between his seat and the door, however, he heard an unfamiliar voice coming from his right side.

"E-e-excuse me," said the mystery person in a wavering voice, "Are you Roxas?'

Roxas turned his head to the right, and took in the girl that stood before him. She was roughly three-quarters of a head shorter than him, and dressed simply in black jeans, cobalt lo-top Converse, a leather bracelet with the words 'A Perfect Circle' emblazoned on it, and, to top it all off, a black T-shirt with a rather intricate design of a blue, gothic heart. What was most striking to him, though, were her eyes. They were dark blue, like the ocean, and held a vibrant depth that was easy to find oneself trapped in. Roxas also observed how her eyes flitted to and fro, like she was waiting for something to lunge at her at any moment. Once she began twirling her hair in an anxious manner, he decided to spare the poor girl the awkwardness.

"Uh, yeah, I'm Roxas… You're Xion, I take it?" he said as he awkwardly extended his arm in an attempt to offer a handshake.

"Uh-huh," she replied as she shook his hand with trembling fingers, "I just wanted to s-s-see how you wanted to do things for the project, and I didn't know if I'd see you again today, and I have no way to contact you, and I didn't want to have to wait 'till tomorrow, and-

"Whoa there, relax," he said as he put his arms up in an attempt to appear non-threatening, "I'm not gonna bite you or anything. …We should try to continue this conversation later. D'you know where your next class is?"

"Ummmmm… Trigonometry with Mr. Leonhart," she said after looking away for a second while lost in thought.

"Oh, me, too. Do you need someone to show you where it is?"

"Ummm…" she said as her eyes started moving uncontrollably once again, "Yeah, I guess…. B-but only if it's not an inconvenience-"

"Don't worry, it's not," Roxas reassured her. "But we should make haste, cuz we're gonna be late in a little bit."

With this, the two teens made their way out of the door and into the wild blue yonder of a bustling school hallway.

* * *

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of yet another dreary, boredom-filled, suicide-inducing day, Roxas felt a sense of righteous freedom envelop his very essence. However, not long after, a familiar sobering reminder that he would be forced to attend the soul-crushing institution known as high school the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, ad infinitum.

Roxas stood up, and made his way over to Xion's desk. In a massive coinkydink, they ended up having the same third, fourth, sixth, and eighth periods together, and had been talking fairly regularly during lulls in the teacher's long-winded speeches about nothing really in particular. As he drew closer, she turned her head in his direction, and gave him another good look at her eyes. Roxas observed that they weren't looking every which way in nervous delirium, and she appeared much less high-strung. Hell, she even had a hint of a smile on her pretty face.

"So…" Roxas began in a very suave manner, scratching the back of his head nervously, "Do you wanna, like, trade numbers or anything for the sake of convenience, or something…?"  _'Smooth, Roxas. SMOOTH.'_

"Yeah, okay," she said. They then swapped numbers, like teenagers do. "I-I'm gonna try to read as much of the book tonight as I can, and then I'll blow you away with my astounding insight and knowledge on it tomorrow!" At this she finally let shine a goofy beam of a smile.

"Yeah, you go ahead and aim for the stars there, Missy," retorted Roxas dryly, "I'll be sure to catch you when you spiral out and plummet back to Earth." A teasing, lopsided grin that had inexplicably appeared on Roxas's face during that remark served to punctuate his statement.

"I'm gonna make you eat those words, you cocky person, you!" said Xion whilst slinging her backpack over her shoulders and moving to walk with Roxas. They moved throughout the halls, chatting amiably about this, that, and the other thing. During their leisurely bid for freedom, many a student stopped to stare at the infamous wallflower actually talking, smiling, laughing, joking, the whole shebang. After seeing what was surely a sign of the imminent apocalypse, they then noted that he was talking to the new chick. Watching Undesirable Number One actually speaking with more than his derisive glances would be a spectacle that the entire world should be clamoring to feast their eyes on, but seeing him conversing with someone belonging to the Double-X Chromosome Club just made the gossip that would ensue all the more juicy.

Ignoring the slack-jawed gazes of some of the more overtly gawping Rhodes Scholars, Roxas walked over to the main entrance with Xion close behind him. After crossing the threshold to the outside world, they separated for their respective routes home: riding the bus for Xion, and walking home for Roxas. As he trudged along to reach the tram station, he mused on the events that led him to make Xion's acquaintance.

 _'Well… Never figured I'd actually meet someone who was legitimately cool at that hellish abyss,'_ thought Roxas as he crossed a vacant street, inching ever closer to his destination.  _'Still, it's kind of sad how nervous she was when she first approached me. It's like she had seen a ghost, a zombie, a werewolf, and a vampire having a weird orgy, and then watching the demonic love-child from that unholy union be born. Like something or someone was going to lunge out and take a chunk out of her. I'm glad she was able to lighten up after a bit, though._

At last he had reached the station, and thankfully he had enough Munny to get him a ticket to the Tram Common area. Swiftly purchasing his way to Mr. Therapist, Roxas climbed aboard the tram and took a seat. He surveyed the surrounding area, and noted that it was surprisingly barren. Roxas attributed this to the fact that it had not yet reached five o'clock, which would spell doom for tram-goers everywhere when working men crowded them like exceptionally tightly packed tuna. Shaking his head to rouse himself from his momentary retreat into thought, he noted that the few other passengers included a pretty blue-haired girl and nobody else really worth committing to his ever expanding memory bank. After looking for a few seconds, and realizing that pretty was an understatement in this lady's case, he came to the conclusion that she was simply stunning. Gorgeous, even. Fighting with his more lascivious line of thought, Roxas opted to not stare gapingly at this beautiful woman, and instead diverted his eyes to the window. When the tram finally took off and descended into the tunnels, he found plenty of things to stare at. Plenty of things, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's improving, and hopefully better on the whole. Again, I've made no changes to the actual letter of the text; just clearing up typos, grammar slip-ups, or the odd bit of redundancy. I'd say Chapter 3 is when I began to really get what I was going for, and started to get how to convey it, so, again, if you see potential in this chapter, sticking around might be worth your while.
> 
> Regardless, read, review, and I'll see ya next time.
> 
> -TheNotSoTalentedPoet


	3. Aligning of the Stars

She was staring at him.

Not subtly, like if she wanted to avoid being caught. No, she was gaping with wide eyes, and a partially unhinged jaw. As much as Roxas's ego was being bolstered at having such a delightfully beautiful creature so obviously enthralled with him, he still felt something was off. He wasn't THAT pretty, after all.

_'Huh,'_ Roxas thought,  _'I never thought I'd feel so awkward when this happened. Though, I suppose it's fitting now that I actually think about it. I seem to be a beacon for awkwardness to gravitate to in all circumstances. Aren't I just the coolest?'_

Even as Roxas slightly turned his head to meet her gaze, it did not abate. He raised an eyebrow in an attempt to catch the woman's attention, but that had absolutely no effect. If anything, she stared more blatantly. It was trancelike, as if she'd been set upon by a hypnotist. After a bit of thinking, he decided to speak up about the odd situation he had found himself in.

"Take a picture," Roxas said. "It might last longer."

Like the hypnotist had snapped his fingers, the spell on her broke, and her mouth snapped shut. With a light blush coloring her pale cheeks, she began to make an attempt to compose herself.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said while wringing her hands nervously. "You just reminded me of-"a dark look flickered over her eyes at that comment, "… Never mind. I'm sorry to bother you." She then diverted her eyes toward the scenery going by in the window.

"No, it's fine," Roxas said in an attempt to assuage her embarrassment. "It's just kinda unnerving to be the object of an unwavering stare, y'know?"

"Either way," the mysterious girl said as she slowly directed her eyes back to his, "I'm sorry for causing such an awkward moment."

"Don't worry about it. To be honest, I could've been less caustic about it. No real harm in staring, after all."

She let out a chuckle at that. "No, I guess not. Don't worry; I deal with people being much less civil over far less valid annoyances."

"How so?" Roxas asked while quirking a brow.

"I'm a barista at a fairly popular local coffee shop. I have the pleasure of ushering hapless morons off to work with a hot cuppa jo in their hands," she stated drolly. "It would be bearable, if not for the geniuses who decide to try something new, shuffle about like they're about to piss themselves while I'm making it, snatch it out of my hands without even a word as thanks, leave while in the middle of scalding their tongue with the damn thing, and THEN," she threw her arms up in an exasperated manner at this point, "Come back in and complain that it tastes like donkey jizz, and then expect me to be able to do something about it. You already drank the fucking thing, and then you decide to gripe about it like I intentionally sabotaged the blasted thing. You're a bloody genius, you know that? Fuck!"

Coming off of her soapbox, she relaxed her posture, which had become rigid during her diatribe; she remembered that she had an audience to that little display. With a sheepish smile on display, she turned her attention back to the blonde, who had an amused grin adorning his face.

"Well, that was rather impassioned," stated Roxas dryly. "I'm gonna log this with the title: 'Reasons Not to Seek Employment Serving Fucking Coffee.'"

"Hahahahahahahaha!" her entire face lit up at that, and she became even more transfixing to Roxas as a result. "It does suck for the most part, but getting afternoon and evening shifts make up for it. The place is usually bereft of anyone looking for a caffeine supplement, and the pastry crowds are much more hospitable."

"That seems to be an adequate enough silver lining, I suppose," said Roxas while still grinning from earlier. "You're on your way to work, I take it?"

"Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"Your uniform is spotless, and nothing about your appearance is disheveled."

"Awful perceptive, arent'cha?"

He shrugged at that. "I guess I am. It's truly a gift, I gotta say. ... Though it does make it even more difficult than usual to try to un-see things." He let out an audible shudder to punctuate that sentence.

"I can imagine. How did you even tell that this was a uniform? There's no logo or anything on it, so what gave it away?" She was right, of course. The uniform consisted of a black polo shirt, and khakis. Fairly casual looking ones at that.

"Well, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that that outfit is a touch too nondescript for you to wear normally. I mean, you seem like you would inject a bit more color into your wardrobe than that. Also, I can see your visor cap-thing poking out of your bag."

"My earlier comment applies once more," she said, a bit stunned at how accurate his assessment truly was. "Granted, I apply darker, more intense colors into my wardrobe, but definitely more than this banal getup." She gestured to her outfit while pulling a face of utter disgust.

"I dunno, I think you're rocking it quite nicely, myself," answered Roxas smoothly. "Especially considering the lack of any vibrancy in the drab thing."

"Well, gee, thanks, " she said a bit bashfully, threading a bit of her hair between two fingers, "Way to raise a girl's spirits there, man."

"No charge, milady," Roxas responded with a winning smile.

They kept talking for the rest of the otherwise uneventful tram ride. Roxas was able to make this mysterious blue-haired woman laugh a good half-dozen more times, and they just seemed to have a relatively instantaneous connection with the other. Eventually, though, they reached her stop.

"Welp, time to go make pastries for people," she said whilst slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"What exactly is this fine establishment called?" queried Roxas.

"'Biggs' Coffee.' Fucking ingenious, right?"

"And here I thought the pop charts held the most uncreative drivel. That actually physically pains me to both hear and say."

"Yeah, it blows," she said over her shoulder. "Be seeing ya, I guess."

"Have a nice day!" Roxas called out after she stepped out of the tram. She responded with a wave while still keeping her back turned, and walking forward. Roxas then sat back and pondered upon this latest encounter with a female.

_'Huh, two in one day,'_  he thought as the tram rumbled to life again.  _'This is officially the weirdest day of my entire life… I'm gonna have to find that creatively titled coffee shop next time I'm around the area, so I can dance like Iggy Pop, and talk to…'_

Roxas's hand met his forehead in a matter of nanoseconds at that thought, and he collapsed in his seat, letting his head come to rest on the windowsill behind him. All the while, an irritated moan erupted from his lips.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuucccckkk," he half-growled, half-moaned, drawing the ire of an old lady sitting on the other side of the vehicle. He paid this no mind, as he was berating himself for forgetting a basic matter of human introductions.

_'I didn't ask her for her bloody name',_ Roxas groaned internally _._   _'All that time talking and I forget to introduce myself. Here I thought that I didn't have any real issues talking to chicks, but one pretty girl talks to me, and I try to act all cool and smooth throughout the conversation, but I forgot to ask the lady for her fucking name. God, I'm bad at this.'_

He sat in that slouched position for the rest of the ride, internally criticizing himself for his faux pas. In all fairness, he wasn't exactly the paragon of social know-how, but that slip-up was a bit egregious. The fact that he had successfully asked Xion her name earlier that day just rubbed salt into the still fresh wound, and made it sting even more. Lost in his berating thoughts, he heard the signal that the tram had stopped, and he noticed that it was at his departure point. Grabbing his backpack, he rose and made his way to the door, stepping onto the platform as the tram swiftly went on its way. He stood there for a moment while he fished his phone out of his pocket in order to blare some music while walked to his intended destination. Scrolling through his rather impressive litany of albums and songs, he decided on Tool's 'Opiate' EP. Putting his ear buds in their intended resting place, he made his way out of the station, and hit the streets at a fairly brisk pace while the intro riff to 'Sweat' resounded throughout his head. Which made him kind of headbang while walking. He was the coolest streetwalker you ever did see.

* * *

He sucked in a breath. Whether it was to calm his racing nerves or to recover from his pantomiming to the climax of 'Opiate', he did not know. Probably both. Either way, Roxas took in the sight of the building in front of him, and was underwhelmed. For all his anxiety, one would think the moderately sized two-story building would be as imposing as a massive gothic cathedral. Other than a dark-grey color scheme, the building was as run-of-the-mill as you could expect to find in a bustling city. Pulling one of the glass doors open, he slowly made his way toward the receptionist's desk. She had blonde hair that was slicked back, with emphasis drawn to two antennae like strands that dangled down on each side her face, and big, green eyes. Judging by the girl's short stature, skinny build, and youthful face, she couldn't have been a day over nineteen. Fishing the paperwork that he had miraculously remembered to bring out of his backpack, he approached the desk.

"Uh, I'm here for an appointment with Dr. Rien," Roxas said as he handed the girl his papers. He sat there with a blank expression as the girl rather unenthusiastically looked through the papers, a scowl marring her pretty features unflatteringly.

"Yeah, waiting room's that way," she responded in with a finger lazily pointing to her left. He walked in that direction, hearing her muttering to herself as he got farther away. "Fuckin' weirdo. Ordered by the Court? What'd he do, start a fire in a hospital? Psycho."

_'Yeah, cuz there's no such thing as prison or anything'_ , Roxas thought sarcastically.  _'Psychos and arsonists just dance gaily throughout the streets.'_

Roxas strode to his right, coming up with many more oh so clever things to say to the bitchy receptionist if he had to see her again. The waiting room was as run-of-the-mill as one's eyes have ever held a gaze on. Magazines, armchairs, and twitchy weirdoes abound. Roxas surveyed the room and noticed that there were no isolated seats, meaning that he would have to touch elbows with somebody who needed psychiatric help. Hypocritical as that thought was, the conundrum of where to sit was quite glaring. Spotting a redhead who didn't look like a psycho killer, Roxas rushed into the adjacent seat with alarming swiftness.

In his haste to take a seat, Roxas didn't really take stock of the person that he had sat beside. What he saw was a marvel to behold. This guy looked like the poster child for the benefits of Mousse. The hair defied reason and gravity, and was a marvel to behold. Roxas couldn't determine if it was glorious or stupid. Yet again, probably both. The rest of the guy's attire was not nearly as striking as his fabulous do, but that was an uphill battle to say the very least. Ripped, black jeans, black Doc Martens, and a powder blue shirt with a curious caricature and the words 'Black Flag' comprised the rest of his outfit. Pallid skin, a lanky build, and striking green eyes completed the visage. Roxas still couldn't tear his eyes away from the cephalopod that appeared to be resting atop the man's head. The man turned to him, and decided to try to break the ice.

"So, did Larxene give you the customary friendly greeting?" he asked with an amused smirk resting on his face.

"The receptionist chick?" replied Roxas. The nod he received spurred him to continue. "Oh yeah, totally. Nice girl, really. Very pleasing to the senses, at least until she opens her mouth."

"Yeah, she does that. Way to sound sexist, though."

"Eh," Roxas shrugged. "I'm not saying that all women are like that, but she has the demeanor of someone who's forced to swallow piss-stained Cheerios daily."

"I figured as much, never you worry, dude," the redhead laughed as he said this. "My name's Axel, and you?"

"Roxas," he responded, taking yet another opportunity to gaze at the wondrous sight that was the newly named Axel's hair. "I know this might sound rude, but I have to ask, how in the name of Socrates did you manage to finagle your hair into that marvelous style?"

"Checking it out are you?" Axel smirked. "It's just a matter of applying Mousse to bedhead."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. Ludicrously simple, really"

"It's a little underwhelming, but it definitely yields a magnificent result."

"Kinda goes with the rest of the outfit, am I right?" Axel gestured to his outfit with his free hand, as his other was draped over the back of the chair.

"If it was any band that wasn't Black Flag, the long hair would probably clash. Them or The Ramones are about the only ones I know of that didn't shear it short."

"So, we're two long-haired punk rockers, then?" Axel grinned.

"Yup. We're the punks of the punk rock community, I guess. The outcasts of the outcasts. We're the fucking misfits, man!" Roxas punctuated his statement with a slap to his thigh, and a cheery grin.

The pair then took to discussing their musical leanings, and they found that they had quite similar tastes. Time quickly passed, as these tastes were rather extensive, and a good twenty minutes went by like a bullet from a gun.

"… So, you play guitar too?" asked Axel, an expression of curiosity on his face.

"Uh huh, for a little over two years," answered Roxas. "I'm finally getting to the point where I can play songs without my fingers getting shredded, and I'm getting better at composing my own stuff as well."

"Written anything good?" Axel inquired, resting his elbow on the back of the chair and cupping the right side of his face.

"Mostly just disconnected riffs, but I like everything that I haven't scrapped," Roxas replied. "It's all got potential, and I think it could blossom into something truly spectacular."

"I'll bet… Oh, yeah! So, um… do you have any plans this Friday night?"

"I was planning on sitting in my room all night wallowing in my misery over my failed social life," Roxas drawled, "So you're gonna have to have one hell of a good evening in mind for me to miss that."

"Heh heh," Axel chuckled. "No, I was gonna let you know about a show that's happening then."

"Who's playing?"

"A band that my friend Demyx is in. They're called The Melodious Nocturnes. And before you ask," he held up a hand to let Roxas know to refrain from asking a question, "They're a punk act, kinda like Bad Religion in that they infuse a softer, more melodic edge to undercut the hardcore nature of their sound."

"Bad Religion-esque, eh…" Roxas had to visibly curb his enthusiasm. "Awesome. Where is the club, then?"

"It's called Betwixt and Between, and it's here in Tram Common," Axel replied. "You wanna give me your number, and meet me at the tram station? I'll drive you to the club from there."

So, they exchanged numbers. Roxas's contact list had been exponentially increased throughout the course of the day, and that was something he felt at once prideful and shameful of. Shortly thereafter, a nurse walked up and informed Roxas that the doctor would be seeing him then. Offering a farewell to Axel, Roxas rose and followed the lady down the halls. At last, they reached a large, oak door with the name 'Xemnas Rien PhD' on display via a plaque. Offering a silent prayer to any deity that was listening, Roxas stepped forward and opened the door.

* * *

The room was rather unimpressive, at least compared to the more grandiose offices that one sees in various forms of media. A mahogany desk with a snow white Mac computer stood at the far back of the room, and held an ominous air to it. Closer to the door, there was an armchair and, fittingly, one of those bizarre couch-bed splicings. Sitting in the armchair, notepad in his lap was a rather imposing man. Long, silver hair covered his head and obscured his face. Though seated, Roxas could tell that the man was tall and powerfully built. Hesitantly, he strode over to the couch, and the man's head turned in his direction.

"Roxas?" He got a nod as his only response. The man's smooth baritone didn't help the intimidation factor. It was a far cry from Roxas's own, admittedly low, tenor. "My name is Doctor Rien, but you can just call me Xemnas if you'd like." He extended his hand, which Roxas took warily; thanking Lord Buddha that the man wasn't an enemy, as even his relaxed grip was firm and filled with unused power. "Please, have a seat right here."

Roxas obeyed, thinking to himself,  _'A psychiatrist that's built like a goddamn linebacker. I think I've officially found the scariest man in the world. He can fuck you up AND fuck with your head.'_

Lying in a supine position on the hybrid couch thingy, Roxas got his first clear look at the man's face. It had a very strong build to it, with high, defined cheekbones, and a very wide, square jaw. The most striking feature was his eyes, though. They were yellow, and bore an eerie resemblance to a hawk's eyes. The piercing nature of them seemed to peer deep inside you, mapping out every moment of your life, and leaving you naked and vulnerable, assuming a fetal position, all with a cursory glance.

"So, I'm gonna ask you some questions, just to confirm a couple of things. Can you be a lamb and answer them?" Another nod was the only sign of acknowledgement that he received. "Alright, so according to the information on your paperwork, you live in the Station Heights area with your father. Is that correct?" A nod. "Do you want to tell me what happened to your mother?" Roxas had a barely visible start at that, but composed himself quickly enough that it was imperceptible, even to a trained eye such as Xemnas's.

_'He sure busted that one out quickly,'_ thought Roxas as Xemnas sat there patiently awaiting a response.  _'Usually they try to ease me into the potentially upsetting questions, but he goes right ahead with the bluntness of… Well, me.'_

"No, I really don't desire to open up that can of worms. In the slightest."

"Okay then, can you tell me why you're here?"

"I'm positive you know already."

"Perhaps, but I'd like to hear it from you regardless."

"Alrighty then." Roxas took a moment to formulate his response. "The gist of it is that it's an ultimatum issued by Social Services. Me being here right now is the only reason I'm not off in Radiant Garden or somewhere in foster care."

"Interesting, "Xemnas mused as he jotted down something on his notepad. "Why do you think that that is?"

"Because I'm severely fucked in the head," Roxas deadpanned. "That or they think that my mind is too small and fragile to come to terms with some insignificant major upheaval. Either one sounds fairly plausible, to be honest."

"Do you really think it can be so simple?"

"Why not?" Roxas asked incredulously. "I don't see why I have to go talk to somebody just because of some miniscule thing that I'm dealing with all on my own. It seems elementary to me."

"Something's elementary to me alright." Xemnas's tone, which before had been relaxing and inviting, now took a sudden turn and was as cold and clinical as a scalpel blade. "You have a defense mechanism where you downplay everything in an effort to avoid asking for help. It's easier that way, isn't it? Never having to open up, never having to let someone in; it's all on you. Regardless of someone's intentions, they can't get too close to you, or you'll just shut them out. Like a child who's being yelled at, you just hide yourself away."

Roxas didn't say a word for the remaining duration of the session.

* * *

Stepping out of the building, Roxas's usually aloof and off-putting aura carried a striking element of insecurity. To put it in the simplest of terms, he had been shaken. Someone had managed to cut right through to his center and showed just how fallible he truly was.

' _He… He can't be right. I-I don't isolate myself. It's just that no-one ever bothers to look inside. That's it. It has to be. I can't be this self-pitying. I just can't'_

Even to him that sounded delusional.

He looked ahead and saw that he had reached the tram station after an indeterminate period of time. Going through the door and up to the ticket-booth, he saw that all trams going to Station Heights had been delayed for an indefinite amount of time.

"Great," Roxas stated dryly. "Some genius decides to park his car on the tram tracks, and then locks himself out of it. Marvelous."

Ignoring the few people who stopped to stare at the oddball conversing with himself, Roxas felt his stomach rumble. For once regretting his tendency to avoid the school's cafeteria like the plague, (too many loogie-laden muffins had been offered to him to reverse that decision) he traipsed right back out the door. Luckily for him, he spotted a hot dog cart right across the street. After purchasing a mustard and cheese slathered foot-long, he started to walk back over to the station in an attempt to find a nice, cozy bench to eat at. However, before he got there, he heard a rather distressing sound.

"Meow."

Roxas did a double-take at that. Twisting in his head around in an effort to find where the sound was emanating from, he spotted a snow-white cat perched on a garbage can near the center of a rather barren alley. Moving closer to answer his curious nature's cry of jubilation, he noticed that the poor thing was rather thin. Unhealthily so, in fact.

Stepping cautiously, so as not to spook the little creature, Roxas slowly inched his way closer to the cat, which was now looking at him with a tilted head and a curious expression. This expression turned to one of delight when it caught a whiff of Roxas's hot dog. Scraping the cheese off and tearing off a small chunk for himself, he dropped the wiener down by the cat, which pounced upon it and began devouring it ravenously.

Looking for a spot that was sanitary where he could sit down, Roxas found a crate with some assorted junk atop it, and swept it all off so he could sit comfortably. While doing this, the kitty, having eaten the hot dog at a frantic pace, gave him the wide-eyes. Looking right back into those deadlights that have hypnotized many a man and woman alike into giving away their food, Roxas exhibited a tolerance to those warm, tempting blue eyes that few other cat lovers could ever hope to achieve. The fact that he had already popped the piddly little chunk of meat that he had torn off into his mouth had no importance to this event. Not at all.

"Sorry, little guy, but that's all I've got." The cat still looked a bit perplexed, but started to approach Roxas with a hint of caution emanating from its emaciated form. Once it was within arms' reach, Roxas slowly put a hand out in an attempt to stroke its fur. The rumbling purr that split the air showed that Mr. Kitty was very receptive to his attempts, and he hopped up onto Roxas's lap, situating himself in a little ball. A small smile took form on Roxas's face as he scratched behind the ears of the little cuddle bug. The pair stayed like this for at least half an hour, but then the cat decided that it had had enough attention for the moment and then leapt off of him and scurried away. In its haste, though, it knocked something over. Roxas looked in that direction, and, upon further observation, he discovered that it was a guitar case. Seeing as his own guitar was a knock-off of a knock-off, he chose to investigate it on the off chance that it would be an improvement to his subpar gear. Crouching down and opening it, his grin became earsplitting when he saw the word 'Gibson' stamped onto the headstock. Quickly closing the case, he grabbed it and started to walk back towards the station.

_'A Gibson. A fucking Gibson!'_ Roxas joyfully shouted internally as he made his way over to a bench and took a seat upon it.  _'What are the odds? Even if it's Puerto Rican or something, there's no denying that it's a substantial improvement over what I currently have. And all thanks to that kitty. Poor thing.'_ A frown had made its way onto his face as an indicator of his sobered mood.  _'It was friendly, so it must have belonged to someone at some point. So thin, too. I wish I could bring him back home with me, but that wouldn't sit well with… Him._

And that was where Roxas pulled the trigger on that line of thought. After that thought had burst his happy, little bubble, he just sat there for an unspecified amount of time, counting the cracks in the wall to keep himself occupied.

At last, the tram pulled into the station, screeching a familiar noise throughout the cavernous hall. Roxas made his way onto the station and sat down. He popped his earbuds in, and set his playlist to shuffle. As the opening piano figure to 'By and Down' reverberated throughout his eardrums, he felt a sense of calm envelop him. It gripped him tightly… Tightly… And didn't let go.

* * *

Something was prodding him. Hard.

Roxas awakened to the feeling of someone poking his leg. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he saw that it was the enigmatic bluenette that he had spoken to earlier that day, staring at him again. Call an optimist, he must be turning blue. He saw that her mouth was moving (a mesmerizing sight, to be sure), and pulled his buds out so as to be able to hear her. However, the music that was playing sounded out before he could.

"Take it fast… See through me… I'm a star, don't you know..? I've got it all… Yes, indeed… Manufacture my invincibility…-"

Roxas then went to turn the volume down, but was stopped by her voice. "Let it keep playing. I love this song." This was new. While his tastes were by no means exclusively obscure, this song and the band who wrote it were among the least-known bands that he listened to. Upon meeting a stunning vision of beauty such as this that also held a candle to such an underappreciated band made Roxas swoon internally. Outwardly, he was utterly flabbergasted.

"You like Dealership?" Roxas couldn't help but sound incredulous with this question. Her rather enthusiastic nod seemed legitimate enough. "You a fan of that kind of style in general?"

"Uh huh," she said, her eyes alight with excitement, despite her appearing to be rather bushed. "One of the good things about the abhorrently named coffee shop is that it's a hipster haven, so a lot of indie rock is played when we don't have someone performing."

"Like on open-mic night?"

"Yep," she said as she took a seat beside him, lounging about on the bench. "That and they occasionally have one of the employees- such as myself- get up there and sing if they can."

"That's an odd policy," Roxas drawled.

"Eh, it lets me exercise my lovely pipes, so I don't have any huge beef with it," she replied sardonically.

"I'm sure your pipes are magnificent." Roxas had a genuine smile on his face at this point.

He was once again able to make her to blush. "They get the job done, I suppose," she responded in a bashful tone, looking down at her lap.

"I'd love to find out one of these days."

"Well, mosey your way on over to the coffee shop, and you just might." She let out a yawn and stretched her arms over her head.

"I'm still flabbergasted that you have a clue who Dealership is." A snarky grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Are you a monosyllabic punk rock girl?"

"Oi!" she responded with a mock glare, "I'll have you know that I'm extremely syllabic, Mister!"

"I know; I distinctly recall you saying the words 'hapless' and 'bereft', so I'm pretty convinced of your syllabic-ness."

"Damn right you are," she said, her earlier mock glare having subsided into a simple teasing expression. "I'm as articulate a person as you will ever meet."

"Yeah, color me convinced." The sarcasm there was rather pronounced, even for a deadpan snarker such as Roxas.

"Oh, yeah!? Well, I'll have you know that I'm…"

This banter kept on for a while, and only really stopped when the tram reached Roxas's stop. Rising and grabbing his backpack and newly acquired guitar case, Roxas was surprised when the mystery woman rose alongside him, grabbing her bag as well. The two made their way out of the station, and into the cool night air. As they walked directly adjacent to each other, she finally asked about the guitar case.

"So, is that why you were in Tram Common?" she asked, training her eyes on the large piece of black plastic. "To acquire that?

"No, just a lucky break, really." Roxas answered as they took a turn on some street corner. "I was feeding a stray cat, and it was just sitting in an alley, obviously having been abandoned."

"A stray kitty?" she asked with a sad look on her face. "It's cool that you fed it, though."

"Eh," Roxas shrugged, which was a bit difficult due to his arms being overbalanced, "It's no big deal. I love cats, and I wish I could have one. Sadly, my old man would descend into histrionics if I brought one home with me. He's not a cat person, to say the least."

"Bummer." At last they reached the point where their paths could not be trod upon simultaneously. "Well, I guess I'll see you around, then." She started walking off. Roxas, having experienced this before, decided to handle things a little differently this time.

"Hey!" Roxas yelled at her retreating form. She turned around and looked at him very expectantly. "Could I ask you for your name?"

"What are you talking abou- Oh!" The realization washed over her face like a tidal wave crashing on a dark beach bathed in pale moonlight. "We never did exchange names, did we?" A light blush colored her cheeks once again.

"Nope, and I'm going to rectify that, Madame. My name is Roxas, and yours?" He punctuated this with a little curtsy.

She let out a hearty laugh at that little display of hyper-masculine behavior. "Aqua," she stated simply.

"Aqua… Pretty name. Suits you too." That comment earned him an exhausted, but still beautiful smile. "Toodle-oo, then."

And with that, they each turned in their own direction, and departed each other's company; Roxas to the left, and Aqua to the right. After five blocks of walking, Roxas came upon his house. Walking up to the entryway whilst fishing his key out of his pocket, Roxas observed that there was a car in the driveway.

His father's car.

* * *

Unlocking the door, Roxas strode into the entryway, the foul stench of booze hitting him like a tornado's winds. Fearing the worst, Roxas dropped what he was carrying, and cautiously stepped into the kitchen. His father was hunched over the table, clutching a bottle of Nightrain in his fingers. His normally slicked-back hair hung unkempt and covered his face, and his eyes were bleary and unfocused. The Armani suit he was wearing was wrinkled and stained, indicating that he had yet to change clothes.

The pancakes from that morning were still sitting there, untouched.

Knowing that this decision could be a major mistake, Roxas went straight for the pancakes in an attempt to quickly clean the dish and leave the room before his father noticed him. Sadly, while Roxas grabbed the plate and moved to the trash can to scrape the now cold and stale pancakes into it, Braig noticed his son, and began to speak.

"Roooooxxxxxyyyyyy!" His voice was slurred almost to the point of incomprehension. "Whe' di' you geh here?"

"Just now," Roxas replied as he stood at the sink, washing the remnants of twelve-hour old syrup off of the plate.

"Coul' you be a 'lil lamb, an' goooo ge' me another one o' theeese?" He clumsily attempted to indicate the bottle of wine he had in his grasp, but only succeeded in almost dropping it.

"No, Dad. You've had enough for one day. You should try to sleep."

"Ahhh wha' the fuck do you know, you 'lil shit? I'm the adul' here, an' I co- co- comman' you to go make a run to the store for another bottle!" He pounded the table with the bottle at that, the noise echoing throughout the decently-sized room. Roxas didn't even flinch.

"No," he said as he finally finished washing the plate, "I said it before, and I'll say it again: go to sleep." Placing the plate in the drying rack, Roxas moved to exit the room. Picking up his belongings, it seemed that Braig had one last thing to say.

"Y'know, you're the reason she's gone."

That did make Roxas flinch, but thankfully for him, that was all his father had left to say. Braig took another drink, and passed out shortly thereafter. Roxas went back into the kitchen, lifted his father's arm over his shoulder, and proceeded to carry the unconscious man to his room. Thanking some supernatural force whose existence he questioned for them living in a one-story building, he managed to get Daddy to his room, and into his bed. Roxas even pulled the covers back, and made an attempt to tuck him in.  _'I'm starting to wonder who the adult is here,'_ Roxas thought to himself sardonically as he made to grab his possessions yet again.

Entering his own room, he stripped off into just his boxers, while simultaneously depositing his backpack in the far corner of the room, and placing the guitar case on his bed. He decided against further investigation of it, figuring that he would have plenty of time to in the morning. He made his way to the bathroom, and committed a raid on the many intruders that had crawled their way into one of the many cubby holes of his mouth. As he was rinsing, he thought back to his father's last words to him. "You're the reason she's gone."

"I know," he said to the ether around him as he fell onto his bed face first. "I know."

Sleep did not come easily that night. The moment was fleeting, too. Typical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter that I would say could actually be called 'decent' or 'good', for the record. I've still got a bit of a ways to go regarding dialogue circa this, but I like the structuring I found out here, and I have a better command of my prose. Your mileage may vary, of course, but I like to think that this is where any prior potential began to be realized.
> 
> The song 'By and Down', is by A Perfect Circle, and it's one of their best songs. Too bad it's on a Greatest Hits album, which I hate buying.
> 
> The song that played when Roxas awoke is called 'Gia'. As was the line "monosyllabic punk rock girl". And it's by a band called Dealership, who are criminally under-known, even though they're defunct. I wholeheartedly recommend these two great songs.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hopefully that wasn't too painful. I'll be posting the following chapters in short order, so, if you feel like going on, do check in again, 
> 
> Read, review, and I'll see ya next time.
> 
> -TheNotSoTalentedPoet


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